of Amy Reese of The Bumble Files and Reinhold Staden Photography.
An image says more than 500 words? I don’t think so. But if an image and 500 words come together they will create something special.
A few days ago we launched a project to bring a story of Amy’s fiction series and an image of my fiction series together.
I provided an image taken in the Fintlandsmoor with some “creative additions” and Amy provided an excerpt of a larger story.
I can only write about Amy’s story.
When I read it for the first time I thought: absolutely stunning.
How cool is it if an image of mine is boosted by the words of such a talented writer. I am a “visual” person, that is the reason why I love landscape photography. But I admire Amy’s talent to visualize stories with words.
But you have to find out yourself. I promise you will love her blog and… she is a very kind and friendly person to work with.
I enjoyed it so much.
If you like the idea and result of this project, feel free to contact Amy for other awesome short stories or me for images.
And for now I will leave you with the story and the image. Enjoy!
The town is in an uproar. Out of nowhere, invisible forces are stealing people and taking them into the sky, never to be seen again. Here we find Tory in the forest, trying to face a most unsettling situation.
“You’re not afraid of the big sky, I see. Me neither,” said Tory.
A rabbit froze in the silence, having been alerted to his presence, and scurried away as Tory released his bow and sighed in defeat. When he hunted for fish, he didn’t have to be so quiet.
But it was easier to blame his father for his weak hunting skills, and he cursed him for not having prepared him and then he remembered. His father was gone and he was gone because of him. He had set the fire. Everything that happened after that was an accident. Tears spilled out of his eyes in sync with the rain that now fell in buckets.
He leaned back, the bark of a tree catching him as he wept, and he threw his hands up in the sky and shouted, “Take me, dammit. Take me!”
The sky roared back and the leaves of the trees were swept up around him, encircling him, heating his face with the rush of a flame that doused the top of his head. He watched, unable to move, the heat intensifying. The thought of his melting bones disintegrating into nothingness crossed his mind and that he was being punished in kind for his deed, fire for fire. The sky seemed to know. No one could hide from the sky.
Smothering in heat, he yelled again, “I’m the one you want!”
He jumped, grabbing at the air, and up he went. Snatched. Suspended above the ground, a halo of light warmed him like a soft blanket. He closed his eyes. “I have returned home,” he said and just as he felt his body lift a little higher, and then plummeted to the ground, slamming the side of his face in the cold dirt.
Air tightened around him, swirling him every which way like a rag dusting the forest floor. A spike pummeled his chest, knocking him against a tree and invisible talons jabbed at him from inside out; his heart muscles clamped around the spike, piercing him deeper until he thought he might faint. His skin, bulbous and tight, exploded with the roar of air swooping inside of him like a mask falling off his face.
He thought he saw smoke, but it could have been the mist that grabbed and gripped at his legs anchoring his feet to the ground. Smoke fumed under his shirt, and a fetid smell of decay washed over him and filled him with revulsion. That smell was his skin burning.
There it was on his belly. A mark smoldered and burned, branding him deeper than skin. It blistered and puffed, rose and fell, and burrs appeared, rippling through his skin. He shuddered as he touched them as they were prickly to the touch.
He did the only thing he knew to do. He ran. He ran and he ran, and he kept running. No amount of sweat dripping from his temples down the sides of his neck could tear down his most obvious dilemma. He was running away from himself.
He stopped to catch his breath, and light filtered through the pines above. “Take me. It’s me you want,” Tory shouted.
But even the sky didn’t want him and so he ran with nowhere to go.
Since I recently decided to focus on landscape photography I am constantly searching the web for inspiration. My favorite landscape photographers are all based in UK. Being in England, Wales and Scotland for quite a while I am not surprised. I would like to share the links to their stunning homepages with you. Some of them are into landscape photography for over 20 years. My all time favorites are Joe Cornish and Jonathan Critchley who is based in France but was born in London. So I think he is a valid member of this group. Enjoy there awesome images! Have a good and creative week. Reinhold
Update: Added to the list, recommendations of bythebriny. Thanks so much for your input. Especially Bruce Percy is stunning.
a bit of Photoshop work for today…producing hallucinatory effects…intensely affecting the mind or emotions
The photo shows a small waterfall in Wales / Devil’s Bridge Falls.
Check out the images of the other participants here.